


Zombies Before Noon

by raendown



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26730871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raendown/pseuds/raendown
Summary: Madara hated the morning shift. It was always boring and getting up early sucked. Thankfully the one time he had to work it something interesting happened, at least.
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 24
Kudos: 287





	Zombies Before Noon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RookieDrawer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RookieDrawer/gifts).



Their first meeting was one that Madara would remember for all the reasons Tobirama probably wished he would forget. Several hours in to a criminally early morning shift he was bored out of his skull and wondering why the hell a comic book shop needed to be open before any of the local nerds around here were even awake. He’d already tidied the shelves four times and dusted the entire premises twice when the cheery jingle of the bell over their door made him lift his head hopefully. That look quickly morphed in to horror as he took in the sight of what was clearly a zombie entering the store. 

Skin so pale it looked almost paper white, circles under his eyes so dark they looked drawn on with marker, and clothes rumpled like they hadn’t seen an ironing board in years, the man who stumbled in had his eyes completely closed and his arms hanging loose at both sides. Only three steps in he stopped dead and just stood there. Motionless. Possibly not breathing. Madara looked around for a hidden camera, wondering if his younger brother had set him up for some kind of weird prank. That was the sort of thing Izuna would do. Nothing new or suspicious stuck out to him, though, so he turned back to the stranger who was now slowly blinking his eyes open. Well, partially open. They remained squinted so tightly he probably couldn’t see any better still. 

“Coffee?” he rumbled in a deep slur. Madara looked around for cameras again. 

“Uh, we don’t serve that here.” 

“...black.” 

Furrowing his brows, Madara repeated himself. “We don’t serve coffee.”

The pale man blinked slowly with a gaze that didn’t seem to really be focused on anything. 

“Extra espresso…” his words trailed off like he meant to continue with something off and yet nothing came. After almost a full minute he managed to close his jaw again with a muted click. Then he merely stood and let his narrowed eyes bore directly in to Madara’s. 

It was the single creepiest thing this shop had ever seen. And considering the varying clientele that was saying something.

For a good hot second Madara contemplated reaching in to his pocket and calling the police. Or maybe the Disease Center. Either one of them would no doubt be very interested in this spontaneous zombie apocalypse. Then the moment passed and he realized this was probably the most interesting thing that was likely to happen to him until the early afternoon crowd began to show up near the very end of his shift. He might as well see how it played out. 

“Would an energy drink do you? We’ve got all sorts of those. Pretty cheap too.” 

“....mn.”

Since he wasn’t very sure what that meant Madara opted for believing he’d just made a sale. Trying to ask questions about flavor and the like would most likely get about as coherent an answer as the ones he’d already gotten so after a moment of going through their inventory in his mind he stepped over to the fridge behind the counter to pick out the highest concentration of caffeine they carried. It also happened to be one of their cheaper brands as well, which was great in case he ended up having to pay for this himself. Did zombies remember how to pick out money from their wallets?

Did zombies even carry their wallets?

“Here. These don’t really taste all that great but it’s got enough of a kick to revive you or whatever.” 

A few seconds after he handed it over he realized his mistake. The oddly still man blinked slowly when Madara cracked the can open for him but finally seemed to understand that there was a liquid in his hand he was meant to drink. His head tilted back to reveal a surprisingly shapely throat that bobbed up and down in a steady rhythm until the entire can was emptied, hung there unmoving for a few seconds more, then his head tilted back down with an honest to god pout on his face. Apparently he’d thought the can was bottomless.

“Right. Feel free to browse or whatever before you come settle up. Register’s over there.” Madara jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “If you pass out try to fall away from the merchandise.” 

“Nnmm.”

“Oookay.” 

Scurrying back to the register was more for the sake of anyone looking in through the windows on their way by than for his own sense of safety. He really didn’t need anyone to call his boss and say they spotted him stalking a customer in his own store. At least he had a comfortable perch from which he could survey the entire floor, set out in a semi circle as it was, giving him a perfect view down each of their short aisles. No matter where this one man circus drifted he would be within eyesight. Madara watched with undisguised fascination while the guy drifted down aisle three, staring hard at a display entirely covered with merchandise for a popular children’s show about brightly colored ponies. The empty drink can remained clutched tightly in one fist.

With drunken steps he wound his way out of that section and in to aisle five. Despite staring directly at their selection of comics for a particular super hero universe Madara got the impression he wasn’t actually seeing any of them. Either he was hopelessly lost inside his own head or he had astrally projected so hard he wouldn’t find himself for another week. Just as the man lifted his hand, perhaps at last to interact with the world around him, the door of the shop jingled violently open to admit a harried looking woman. 

“There you are!” she screeched. Without even sparing a look around the rest of the open space she marched around a display of new releases and clapped a hand down on the zombie man’s shoulder. “I have been looking for you for over an hour, you absolute dick! Do you know how worried we’ve been? Your brother would have taken my damn head off if anything happened to you on my watch!” 

“...nm?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, the woman shook her head and finally looked around. The fact that there weren’t any other customers seemed to console her a little bit, probably relieved there weren’t more witnesses to her bad skills at keeping track of one man. When her eyes looked on to Madara he refused to quail under the force of her glare. A part of him sort of wanted to. He spent as much time in the gym as the next self-conscious guy but the look she was giving him promised that she, in fact, was the one with an ability to rip heads. To his absolute shame, he looked away first. But only long enough for the weight of her gaze to leave him so he could go back to watching this drama unfold in front of him. 

“Come on,” she growled, tugging at the man’s sleeve. “Next time this happens I am tying you to the bed until you fucking learn! Did you even pay for that drink? You are so paying me back for this, I don’t care if it’s only a couple bucks!”

It wasn’t all that surprising how little resistance the man offered to being pulled across the floor and back out on to the street, though Madara did give some thought to whether or not he should be calling the police. Should he be reporting assault over this? It was too bad the owners were too cheap to install any real security other than the one camera pointing straight at the door and the one directly over the till. Some proper footage of what happened probably would have made great evidence if someone came back to question him. 

For several minutes after he was left suddenly alone Madara stared towards the door and wondered if it was possible that he might have hallucinated everything that just happened. Maybe he’d been reading too many of the comics in here. His mother used to warn him when he was little that using his imagination too much would rot out his common sense - but, then again, she was a cantankerous old bitch who kicked him out as soon as he turned eighteen. He’d never put much stock in anything she had to say. And then there were the coins that crazy lady had tossed over the counter on their way by, that was pretty solid evidence that he wasn’t hallucinating. 

Without a live zombie show for entertainment the rest of his shift at the comic shop mostly passed in boredom. Usually he worked the afternoon shifts just for this very reason. The mornings were always dead but he’d had to reschedule an appointment with his doctor three times already and trading shifts today had been the only way he was getting in there without having to wait several more weeks for another open spot. Medical care in their city seriously needed a bigger budget. Desperate to pass the time without resorting to the merchandise he wasn’t supposed to fiddle with on shift, Madara ended up slumped over the front counter doodling on the back of some old receipt paper he found stuffed in to a random drawer. Nearly half the page disappeared under swirls of red ink before he realized that he was drawing a dead, moaning zombie. With a sheepish look around he set the red pen aside and reached for a black one instead. Hopefully that would inspire some less creepy doodles. 

As expected, a couple hours before the end of his shift he finally started seeing some customers, his fellow nerds flocking in to check for new issues of the latest detective comic or merchandise for their favorite anime characters. Madara kept a sharp eye on the ones he didn’t recognize and gave no more thought to the entertaining if odd start to his day. After work he scurried off to the bus stop and barely made it to his long overdue doctor’s appointment before stumbling back on to the bus an hour after that with a bandaid on his arm and several vials of blood less in his body. 

“M’ home,” he called weakly as he shuffled inside the apartment. Something clattered around the corner, followed quickly by the sound of Izuna swearing.

“Did the appointment go well?” His brother’s voice shouted after him on his way down the hall. 

Tossing his jacket through the door of his bedroom, he called back. “Went fine. Had to get some blood pulled. Dumb ass doctor doesn’t think I know my own body enough to tell when I’m having seasonal allergies. He wants to test me for heart disease!” 

“But...those aren’t...anki, that makes no sense!” 

“I know!” Madara rolled his eyes even though the other couldn’t see him. “Apparently being short of breath because of the all the ragweed means I  _ must _ be on the verge of a heart attack.” 

“Probably got his medical degree out of a cereal box.” 

Tired, a little loopy from having too much blood drawn without eating anything, Madara’s thoughts for the rest of his evening were filled mostly with grumbles about incompetant medical staff and listening to Izuna go on about the latest drama from his apprenticeship. Work was so far from his mind he entirely forgot to mention the strange occurrence from that morning. He went to bed that night thinking only that he was grateful his shifts were back to their usual afternoon schedule tomorrow because he certainly didn’t want to wake up early again, his dreams filled with needles that laughed at him while he sneezed uncontrollably. 

Several days went by with the usual humdrum of the life Madara and his brother had fallen in to. As much as he despised the morning shift, he loved the afternoons with equal fervor. His job at the comic shop didn’t pay much more than a basic living wage but he loved the environment, loved his regular customers, and he especially loved the hefty discount it gave him on all the nerdy merchandise he couldn’t help filling their home with. Things went about as normally as they usually did in his life until the fourth day when Madara looked up from checking out a regular customer to find the next person in line was an actual walking snack. 

Wild hair artfully arranged to somehow look purposefully messy, skin so pale he could be mistaken for an albino, red eyes that Madara would swear could see right down in to his soul, he was already a dreamboat even without taking in the deliciously toned rest of his body. Something about him looked familiar but it was hard to concentrate past the broad shoulders standing straight and tall. 

“Can I -  _ ahem _ \- how can I help you?” Madara fought with his cheeks not to flush bright red and prayed that no one would comment on the massive crack his voice had just done. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be Madara, would you?” the man asked in a deep rumble. “Your coworkers described you to me when I came in here yesterday.”

“I am, yes. Uh...is there something wrong?” 

Shaking his head, the man coughed a little as though feeling uncomfortable. “No, no. I only wanted to come in and thank you for not kicking me out of your store the other day. I was, ah, fairly ill at the time and my behavior was not the best. Several shops had already sent me on my way but you allowed me to stay in one place long enough for my cousin to catch up so I wanted to say thank you for letting me stay somewhere safe. Anything could have happened to me in that state.” 

For a second Madara tried to subtly look the man up and down, trying to determine if he was lying or not. Surely this couldn’t be the same guy? It was only after he mentally added some black streaks under the eyes, hunched the shoulders, and squinted the eyes that he realized it was. This was his zombie customer. 

“You don’t look the same at all!” was the first thing his stupid mouth chose to blurt out. 

“Ah. Thank you, I think.” The man coughed awkwardly again. “I’m told I look fairly awful whenever I work myself in to sleep deprivation.” 

“Oh is that why you were acting so much like a zombie? Wait no! Shit! Sorry, that was rude! Um, shit- gah, I’m not supposed to swear, fuck. Damn it!” Exasperated with his own lack of self control, Madara smacked a hand over his face. Nearby one of his regulars could be heard snickering but glaring them in to silence would have meant removing his hand and facing the hot stranger who’d made him splutter. 

To his eternal relief, no comments were made about his verbal idiocy, although he could definitely hear traces of amusement in the man’s tone when he continued speaking. 

“Yes, unfortunately I have a habit of getting a little too involved in my studies. Exams are coming up so I’ve only been sleeping about two or three hours a night and it, ah, finally caught up to me apparently. I don’t remember much but my cousin tells me I wandered out of her house sometime around six in the morning and she didn’t find me until, er, whenever it was she found me in here.” After scratching at the back of his neck he seemed to jolt himself and then held out the same hand. “I’m Tobirama, by the way.” 

“Madara. But um, you apparently already knew that.” 

They shook hands, at which point Madara realized the other man’s incredible height also came with massive hands that practically engulfed his own. He really hoped he wasn’t blushing as brightly as it felt like he was. 

“So you live around here then?” he asked. Then he wanted to slap himself again because that was probably way too personal of a question. 

“Not really. Well, not yet. I’m staying with my cousin so I can take some courses at the university but my brother is thinking of moving back to town so I’ll probably move back in with him if he does.” 

“Back to town?” Madara perked up. “So you’re from around here originally?” 

Tobirama nodded. “We grew up in the west end.”

“No kidding? Me too.” Squinting, Madara tried to determine whether they might have crossed paths when they were younger. The man did sort of look familiar but age could change a lot about a person and it wasn’t like he’d kept contact with anyone from that end of town. Not after he’d been summarily tossed to the curb. 

His closer interest did not go unnoticed. For a moment he flushed even deeper than he already was, thinking Tobirama might have been offended by his scrutiny. Then his ears were flaming for another reason entirely and he couldn’t even bring himself to be upset about the misunderstanding when the other leaned in just a bit closer with a slow smile. 

“I don’t suppose you’d like to go for coffee sometime?” he asked. “As a thank you, of course.” 

“On one condition,” Madara told him, feeling suddenly bold.

“Do tell.” Tobirama looked even more amused by his request. He leaned farther down to rest his weight on both elbows to patiently await the condition he would supposedly need to meet. 

“If you can describe the premise behind any of the comics in this store then you’ve got yourself a date. I’ve had too many people try and steer me away from ‘childish interests’ and think they can ‘help me grow up’.” 

After breaking up with the fourth person in a row who mocked him for his interests Madara had made a pact with himself to never again date anyone who didn’t accept him for who he was and what he loved. He might be a massive nerd but he’d learned the lesson of self value a long time ago and he wasn’t about to let himself be blinded by a pretty face again. 

To his utter delight, he needn't have worried this time. With a competitive sort of light in his eye Tobirama pointed out half a dozen different comics within eyesight and not only named the main characters but also the basis of the main plot for each of them. What made it all the more impressive was that he mostly chose rather obscure franchises that couldn’t be considered mainstream. Madara was half in love before he was finished describing the third one. Handsome, intelligent enough for university, and apparently in to the same geeky stuff as him? Sign him up. Immediately. 

“Okay, okay, point made!” Throwing up his hands in surrender made Tobirama smile. “You mentioned your exams are coming up so I’m guessing you’ll be busy for the next little while. Why don’t I give you my number and we can go out for coffee to celebrate after you don’t need to study so much?” 

“I would appreciate that a lot,” Tobirama murmured earnestly. 

“School’s obviously important to you if you’ll work yourself in to a zombie state over it,” Madara pointed out. 

He got a grateful look that made his stomach flip flop. Rather than make a fool of himself again he printed off a bit of blank receipt paper and wrote his number down, sliding it across the counter. He expected Tobirama to slip the paper in to his pocket but instead he pulled out a beaten up cell phone and entered the number right there, smiling to himself like he'd won an unexpected treat. 

“I’m sure Hashirama will be thrilled to know I’m finally being more social.”

Madara nearly stopped breathing. All the triumph of having secured a very promising date suddenly drained right out of him as he stared at the man across the counter in horror, several little clues falling in to place at once. Finally he’d figured out why Tobirama looked familiar and it wasn’t because he’d seen him in zombie form. Images of his childhood best friend danced across his memories.

“You’re...you’re Hashirama’s little brother,” he whimpered. “Oh god. Oh god! He’s going to kill me! He’s going to come back to Konoha just to cut all my hair off in a bowl cut to match his!” 

While Tobirama stared at him with a mixture of horror and amusement Madara decided that as long as he got that date first he didn’t much care how he died. One conversation - and one look at those well defined biceps - was all he’d needed to know that Tobirama would be well worth it.


End file.
